retraction

I must retract my former statement. I do not, in fact, love sailing. I have come to believe that sailing is nothing more than a poorly disguised ploy to make me hate my life.

You know how it feels when you're in an airplane and the turbulence hits? How your body gets unbearably light and then heavy all at the same time, over and over? Well, imagine that, multiplied by the fact that my bed is almost as far forward as it's possible to be, right where the waves are crashing against the bow with a sound like small thunder. And compound all that with the feeling of utter despair when I realize that, no, this plane isn't going to land anytime soon. That, in fact, there is no land anywhere and won't be for several days.

The only way I'm able to be on the computer right now is because I spent the last four hours sitting outside, wind whipping my hair and face, gathering up un-sick feelings in enough bulk to allow me to read for a few minutes.

Maybe I'm being a little over-dramatic. It's possible. I don't have time to sit and discuss it though; I've got to get back out to deck seven before I lose this fragile truce I've managed to call with my body.